One day, when my husband was home, Claire told him that Momma had a boyfriend.

“Really?” he said with a smile. “What’s his name?”

“David,” she said matter-of-factly. This was news to me!

“Oh, really?” he said with a bigger grin. “What does he look like?”

“He’s a tall black man. He wears khaki pants, and he’s really nice.”

“Really!?” he said. “What kind of hair does he have?”

“Oh, he doesn’t have hair, Daddy. He’s bald.”

Thank goodness my husband isn’t the jealous type.

Oddly enough, I’ve always had a thing for bald men.

“When do you see David?” he asked.

“Oh, he comes over every day!” she said. “Momma has a boyfriend named David!”

We all had a good chuckle…and I thought that was the end to the story.

Until she started telling everyone this. Everyone.

She was barely two years old! She’d say this to strangers and friends alike. I’d blush and deny it. I’d laugh a nervous laugh. “Kids!” I’d say. The more I tried to deny it, the guiltier I sounded. Most people didn’t realize that Claire was as verbal and imaginative as she was. She had to be getting this from somewhere, right?

They shouldn’t have been so surprised. She’s always been very verbal (putting together sentences by the time she was 17-months old), so that wasn’t the shocking part. The shocking part was the fact that she was consistent in her description of David. Every. Single. Time.

“Momma has a boyfriend, and his name is David.” (At this point, Claire wasn’t familiar with any Davids, so we’re not sure where she got the name.)

“David is a tall black man.” (her words)

“He wears khaki pants.” (I had friends amazed she knew what khaki was, but what can I say? If Claire said David wore khaki pants, he wore khaki pants.)

One of my friends who lived on the East Coast wondered if it was someone she’d seen, like a mailman or a UPS guy or some other delivery person that would come to the house. None of our delivery people match that description.

We didn’t let her watch much TV before she was two, and the shows she may have caught in passing didn’t have any characters that matched David’s description.

I was at a loss…so I decided to embrace it.

We all pretended that David was my boyfriend, and, imaginary or not, our relationship lasted for over a year!

David became a daily topic of discussion. My husband would call me to tell me when he’d be home early “so that David will have a chance to leave before I get there,” he’d say. “I mean, talk about awkward!”

“Let me know if you’re going to be late,” I’d tell him before he left for work. “If you are, maybe David can pick something up for us to eat on his way home.”

A couple weeks ago, Claire started talking to someone in the mirror in my office. When she was really little, she used to talk to her own reflection in my mirror, and we thought it was cute. Well, now, she’s started talking to “The Captains,” and they live in my mirror.

Sometimes she “puts them in jail” (Uh, okay?) when they “are bad,” (greeeeeeat.) but usually, they just stay in my mirror and talk to Claire. They carry on all kinds of conversations.

Maybe I’ve watched too many scary movies, but I’m trying not to let this freak me out. The only explanation I can get from her is that “they are The Captains, and they live in the mirror.” (In a Duh, Momma…tone.)

I talked to my husband, and he has no idea where The Captains came from, and neither do I.

I would get down on her level and see what she sees, but frankly, I’m afraid. How creepy!? I mean, what if I see them, too? And, honestly, I’d rather pretend they don’t exist.

One night, Claire was pretending to give the kitties treats. She was handing them invisible morsels. They were a bit confused but didn’t seem to mind playing along with the charade. Claire informed us that she’d created her very own concoctions: Merlin was being treated to mashed potato treats, and Jasper got to have pepperoni ones.

Daddy was focused on the laptop on the kitchen table, not really giving his full attention to what was unfolding in the kitchen.

“Here, Daddy!” she says, as she hands him what he thinks is an invisible treat. He pops it into his mouth.

“Mmmmm,” he says. “Is this one mashed potatoes or pepperoni?” proving he had been paying attention to some of the details, but what he’d failed to realize was that we’d switched gears, and she’d handed him Baby Piggy.

This fluffy little blue ball is Squiddy Gwiddy Itty Bitty Bitty Bitty Ball. She came home on an art project on Monday from Claire’s Young Preschoolers Class.

That night, Merlin took a liking to Squiddy Gwiddy Itty Bitty Bitty Bitty Ball and rescued her from the paper pumpkin where she was adorned and batted her into Claire’s room.

That’s where Claire found her.
And named her.
And, she didn’t get a short, easy-to-type name. Noooooo…that would be too easy. 😉

And, if you don’t get her full name said correctly the first time, you will be corrected by Claire. Needless to say, I’ve got it memorized.

Squiddy Gwiddy Itty Bitty Bitty Bitty Ball is just lucky Merlin didn’t bat her under the fridge, which is where most everything goes…eventually.

So, even though we’ve only had Squiddy Gwiddy Itty Bitty Bitty Bitty Ball in our charge for a few days, Claire is totally smitten. She goes everywhere with us. She’s a little harder to contain than Baby Piggy, but I’m trying my best.

Thankfully, my jeans have a special pocket designed just for her.

A special pocket just for her

All this time, I thought that little pocket was for coins or something. But, come to think of it, I’ve never used that little pocket until now.

Squiddy Gwiddy Itty Bitty Bitty Bitty Ball went with us yesterday on a playdate, and she peeked out a couple times and even met some of Claire’s friends.